


paper

by inuredaydream



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Childhood Friends, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, It Pretty much Condenses all the DSMP Lore of Tommy and Tubbo into one fic, M/M, No Smut, Psychological Trauma, Tommy and Tubbo just Grow up Together, Violence Warning only for the Disc Confrontation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inuredaydream/pseuds/inuredaydream
Summary: 13/7/2019 - hey, my name is tubbo. i stole-- was given this journal from my best friend tommy.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo/TommyInnit
Comments: 16
Kudos: 97





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**Author's Note:**

> wow! me writing a basically g-rated fic? never heard of.  
> dates in this fic are formatted as: dd/mm/yyyy

tubbo always had a hard time knowing what to say. 

words would constantly fumble out of his mouth. carelessly, and lost their meaning whenever his eyes scrambled and his brain attempted to compute what his thoughts wanted to say. he constantly left himself alone to stay silent, only nodding and occasionally speaking his true emotions out for people to hear. he didn’t want to fuck up the words that he let out, so because of this. he didn’t speak out and make speeches a lot. he let the others do the talking, because most of the time, he shared thoughts with tommy. this also presented a new aura to the brunette, the few times that the smaller of the two near-twins had to speak up and mark his own words. people knew that then, they had crossed a line. then, he was serious. 

but most of the time, he had little thoughts, of course. the occasional bomb would go off and explode inside of his head. his mouth acting before logic. but these little thoughts, he still wanted to let them out without having to talk tommy’s ear off constantly. that’s why, years ago, he took up to writing little papers. his thoughts being spilled upon sheets of paper. be it post-it, lined, construction, journal, something, _anything._ get tubbo’s thoughts out of the confines of his head, he didn’t want to forget his thoughts but he didn't want to leave them bubbled and trapped inside of him, he let them out, ad then he liked to fold the most insignificant of them into origami.  
  
originally, tubbo didn’t just write on appears, colorful pens, and other such. first, he did ramble tommy’s ear off. some days, he liked to listen and participate in tubbo’s brainstorming. but other times. it was obviously clear he was busy, and ignoring tubbo. these few times unknowingly stung tubbo like a bee. he didn’t know why it hurt so much when tommy ignored his ramblings. and his brain started to paint his thoughts with toxic ideas. he laughed it off, but then he never actually rambled to tommy again after that. he kept himself and all of his thoughts in the confines of a journal. a leather front, and lots of pages. tubbo always had small handwriting. his head craned close to his desk as he scribbled out all his thoughts.

the journal was a gift from tommy. or more like, something that was handed off to tommy. as tommy was digging through his things, looking to put some of it away. tommy had pulled out an old book, a cream one with the cover of light leather. it had the carving of a tree within the front. tubbo turned his head over to tommy, hunched over that chest, before lifting his arms up and arching back, cracking his back and groaning. tubbo winched as he heard a few nasty pops come from his back. he decides to ask, as he’s also hunched in his own chest that he had put on tommy’s residence.

“is your back doing okay?” tubbo said, shortly. tommy turned over to tubbo with the book still in his hand. “yeah, yeah. just y’know- the posture really does cause my back to hurt.” he arched back again, on his knees. his arms going up again. he groaned out again as more pops came out his back. and then tommy hunched forward, flopping his hands down. obviously relaxed. he let out a deep exhale out of his mouth and then looked at the book that was in his hands. 

“yowch, that pop sounded painful.” tubbo exclaimed, but not with urgency. more concern. tubbo turned back to his own chest, and he arched over the edge and dug further into the interior. “yes, score! we got snacks!” he found a few packs of cookies that was still in it’s wrapper inside of his chest, and lifted the out victoriously. he could hear tommy shuffle over to his area, having to push away some of the things he had thrown onto the ground, in piles of what things he was going to burn and things he was going to keep. “fuck yes, toby, gimme some of those.”

tubbo smirked and threw a pack at tommy. low enough not to hit him. it fell straight into the blonde’s lap, and he went to sit cross-legged next to his friend and tear open the package. it was nothing special. a 5-pack of packaged chocolate-chip cookies. but he didn’t care. “god, i’ve been hungry for hours. finally, something on my stomach.”. tubbo looked at him suspiciously, and eyed him. “how long have you been without food?”. admittedly, a bit of concern stinging into his voice. tommy looked at him in the eyes. and tubbo was suddenly startled.

what was that?

“oh, uh, i was only on three hunger. but now it’s building.” his voice softened. but only slightly. you’d have to be reading him to notice the change in tone. tubbo listened to him. and then grabbed another package and tossed it to tommy. “have more, my _god_ , you’re nearly _starving_.” he said with a slight chuckle to his voice. and tommy chuckled back, and then they started laughing. a loud wheeze coming out of tommy right after he chewed down a cookie and swallowed it. he let his hand hit his knee. it was joyous and fulfilled an empty pit in his stomach. the butterflies started to relax and he could breathe easier, as the tension melted away as they both munched on cookies.

tubbo noticed the book that sat on the side, and he glanced at it before using his free hand to point at it. “hey, what’s that?”

tommy eyed tubbo, before eyeing the book. his eyes dulled. and looked at it. his mouth full of cookie. he attempted to talk, but all he could hear was muffled letters. tommy, irritated, chewed faster. and then swallowed. “that’s just an old, empty journal. you can take it if you want. my name is in it though- i don’t want it though.” he shoves another cookie in his mouth. and muffled, he spoke: “there’s also some old photos in there i think.”

tubbo put down the pack of cookies, and put them on the tiled floor, before grasping the book and flipping through the pages. he giggles as he stares at the first page, a youthful picture of tommy, with his toothy grin on full display. tubbo giggled, and tommy turned his head over to see what was on the page. “what’s so funny?”. he inspected the page, before seeing the picture of himself on the page, and he put his hands over his eyes and starts complaining. “ _augghhh_ , come **on** , it’s not funny!”

“it’s not funny, it’s just cute.” tubbo teased “look how small you were, god!”. tubbo teased tommy even more by putting his pointer finger on the picture and booping the nose. tommy whined and turned pink. “ _shut up! shut up! shut up!_ ” his shoulders were hunched up in alarm as he went to grab another cookie and munch on it, he’s clearly retaliating against tubbo's poking against his picture. tubbo closes the book, and opens the enderchest. “i am _so_ keeping this. make a memoir or something out of it.”

“you better credit me if you sell it bitch, ‘m the co-author baby.” tommy pridefully said, his face recovering from the flustered state it was in. the arches his back again, and groaned. tubbo dismisses it, and comments. “co-author of my own memoir? just watch, i’ll make millions. i’ll be the main character.”

“nuh- _uh_ . _im_ the main character! you’re like… my sidekick or something. tommy the main character and trusty tubbo, his sidekick!” tommy lifted his hands, and exclaimed. tubbo smirked and started to chuckle at the notion. “what if we were both the main character?”

“what the fuck.” tommy faced tubbo, and the sudden and dense eye contact broke tubbo. he started to chuckle, his face turning red. “stop _looking_ at me like _that!_ ” he covered his eyes, as he fished another cookie from the packaging. “never, bitch!” tommy had cracked that cute smile, with bracing lining his teeth. the metal looking nice on tommy, when not many people could rock them. he had wanted to get a closer look, his brain thought of an image where his thumb would pry open tommy’s mouth while he was sleeping and getting a closer look at them.

... _what_?

and that introduced tubbo to writing in the journal. 

not his proudest memory. the fact that the first entry in this journal was this thought. he remembered later that night that he actually was given that journal, and the incident with the picture of tommy. he wanted to see that picture again. but as he looked to the right. was an entire journal of open, college-ruled lines for him to fill in with his thoughts. so, hunched over a lantern at his yellow-colored bed. he wrote in the book with a pencil and started to go off.

> **13/7/2019**
> 
> hey , my name is tubbo . i ~~stole~~ was given this journal by my best friend tommy . today i stared at his braces and then i thought about wanting to pry his mouth open and see them up close . not my proudest moment i’d say .

admittedly, isn’t the best introduction to a journal ever. but it’s not like he can just edit some things when he finally publishes the memoir. he giggles to himself, and shoved the book elsewhere as he closed the book and then lay on his side. he could still hear tommy in his own room shuffling around and doing things. it wasn’t like as if he was actually going to act on his weird thought processes. he _had_ self-restraint. he closed his eyes, and started to drift off. dreaming dreams of disks, and memoirs, and a happy future.

and over time, that journal sat in that enderchest. only being pulled out in the late nights, when almost everyone was asleep. where he knew he was safe grabbing it, and grasping the pencil that he used as a bookmark and started to scribble his thoughts inside of it. he would always be opened to that dorky picture of tommy, but pictures started to flow from its covers. more snapshots of tommy, and tubbo, some memorable pictures that he left inside of the book. taping them to certain pages. reminding him of his friends. he never did tell anyone about the book, and tommy had never asked him about it since the day he received it from tommy. 

on certain nights, such as the day where they had lost the disks once more. and times like when eret had taken off their very first lives far too young. he had spent his late nights, after the processing session that was nearly-annual to every war with tommy. sitting on a bench and watching the sunset. the surreal picture of either victory, or defeat. he would spend the nights after all it was said and done, tracing his fingers over the name that was scribbled on the top-left of the journal in ink, “thomas simons”, but he always made sure not to trace his name over the letters too much. he was always afraid he’d smear the ink and make it fade away.

he never wanted tommy to fade away. he decided. he grabbed his pencil. flipped about a few dozen pages in, full of mostly unimportant rambles. like the meaning of life, why the price of smartwater was so expensive, and why he seemed to have a bad gut feeling about eret.

> **02/08/2020**
> 
> hey , we lost the war today . i feel kinda shitty , i lost one of my lives today . now i understand what they mean by “ it feels like you get sent to hell and back . ” . i wish i had spoken up a little more . but i dunno , i guess i was too nervous to . tommy and wilbur always know what's best for me , and we usually agree with stuff . but i wish i just had spoken up a little more . i could’ve helped . but then again , none of us ever knew that eret would do that . i always knew something was up with him . at least l’manburgs ok .

tubbo sighed, and as tommy was already fast asleep in his now-shared bed with tommy. he blew out the dim light illuminating the room. and curled up into the blankets after he went to go put his valued book away and tucked it into his paradox-chest to keep it from from the prying eyes of whomever wanted to hurt them. he cuddled into tommy’s side subconsciously as he started to fall into a deep slumber.

and this pattern continued. most of the time, the journal would be left untouched for most occasions. on the rare, the journal would only be used for the times that he genuinely had some weird idea, fantasy, plan, whatever, something of which he was either too ashamed to tell others, or just flat-out _couldn’t_ tell anyone. knowledge is power, he knew that’s what ruled this sick cruel world to go on, to continue playing out its story. and tubbo really thought this was the worst of it.

he knew for awhile that wilbur had wanted to do an election. to prove to dream that he was the leader that the people wanted. and not just the self-elected douchebag that everyone made him out to be. he had a caring heart, and tubbo was willing to follow pog2020 all the way. he knew that quackity was only running so that he could actually have someone to run against. and that was a fair compromise between the two teams. that if either side one. they would hold no prejudice over the other. at least, that’s what wilbur had announced to tubbo after tommy and wlbur went to their meeting.

but things started to go wrong. the election was rigged by a mysterious man named schlatt. he grasped the collar of tubbo’s uniform as he watched his friends get exiled right in front of his eyes. his brother, his best friend. his everything. tommy was all he cared about. and he couldn’t even scream or holler as the crowd shot arrows into the back of tommy back, as wilbur was shot until he was so weak he couldn’t walk. he wanted to scream at schlatt. telling him why! _why would you do this! you goddamned monster!_ but he couldn’t, his bones were frozen, and he was petrified. and he didn’t know if the fact he was stuck with schlatt, and wasn’t exiled with his friends was worse.

it was. he would rather be with his friends then the pain he had to go through with schlatt. he wanted to nearly die, and that was what he meant. he could constantly hear the bigger, taller and more intimidating man. loaded with a gun in his hand, ruling for power. he constantly did favors for him. and practically lived in the man's office. the butts of cigarettes and empty bottles of vodka, rum and beer. at first, the scents were intoxicating, and it caused him to shiver like a leaf with anxiety. constantly on edge as butterflies flapped inside of his stomach non-stop. he didn’t know where tommy was. it’s all gone, his only family is gone away and he needs to know the reality. he constantly to cries to himself alone in his bed, grasping the book full of pictures as his throat tightened. 

over time, the smell of beer and cigarettes scent absorbed into his oversized suit, and his new leader and self-proclaimed father got to him. his eyes greyed. he wanted to commit being a spy for pogtopia. but he started to melt into the attention of the leader. pushing him further and further towards the direction of an end of a life without care. his head would spin, and he barely remembered the times where he would decorate a festival on autopilot. when schlatt was too lazy to put it up himself, so tubbo had to assemble it all himself. he barely remembered the fact that the entire thing was rigged with tnt. the days started to pass into weeks. he wrote in his journal, all the dark thoughts that stirred and brewed inside of his head. 

it was only when he finally got the trauma, the ultimate shot of being hit with a firework. the explosion of a flame. tubbo was too young. he knew, he was just 16. and he was forced as a slave for a falsely-elected democratic president. quackity would stare in shock as he was admitted as being a traitor. everyone’s yelling as his vision narrowed in yellow. it all started to become an alley, as he heard tommy scream. wilbur rushing off, and away. tubbo struggled in the box as his bones froze, and he started to cry. _please don't hurt me. please don’t hurt me._ he would mutter, anything and everything was turning into a fuzzy darkness as his eyes shrunk when he saw technoblade cock and aim a gun straight for his heart. his eyes looked at technoblade, and begged him not to do it. he tried to scatter, his hands pressing against the sides of the walls and tried to coax the others to rescue him. he was on autopilot for the longest time. and it was all just white noisy. but now it was so _loud._ and he could only hear yelling. before he was shot, and a maniac started to shoot out everyone in the festival. and he started to faint.

from then on. he wouldn’t be alone with technoblade.

tommy protected the brunette. his arm in a swing cast. by then, the only reason that tubbo remembered anything at all is because of his entries in the journal. scribbled out roughly with his left hand, and very hard to read. but he spends his hours trying to make it readable. this memoir was surely a sad tale of a seaside sailor. he would sit on the rocky ground, deep in the ravine. he would trudge over to the enderchest and pull out the old journal. by now, the spine was a different color than the cover due to the usage of the book. he would light a candle, ignoring the constant arguing from tommy and wilbur. his heart aching as he flipped about halfway in the book. not even giving a glance at the previous entries, he lets himself write. slowly.

> **25/10/2020**
> 
> i lost another one of my canonical lives today , my arm is unusable . it really hurts . i sometimes wish i could’ve just died instead of having to live through this hell . i cant even use my left arm for long . i don't know why that

the entry was never finished. 

he would just shut the book, and arch his head to droop and look at the ground. the echo of slamming and yelling from tommy and wilbur echoed through his ears. it rung, and reminded him of familiar trauma. the familiar pain. it stung at him. and he quickly goes to trudge back to his bed where he would rest. he just wanted to rest forever. the white noise in his head was starting to grow again. the happy moments with tommy were long gone. he missed the old days where he ate cookies, and joked, and played and laughed and had so much fun as mellohi’s sweet tone flowed through the background. his eyes would swell as he curled into a fetal position in his bed. he prayed that whenever he fell asleep, he would wake up on a cloud far away from l’manburg. in the sky.

the months passed by, l’manburg exploded in a fiery frenzy. withers was all that he could see. his soul was sucked out. he barely remembers the time he became president. he barely remembers anything really. just the empty pit inside of his heart. he hated how much it stung and poked at him. he just wanted to feel a smile again. but the stacking trauma, and all the pain and suffering was all he could thinking about. wilbur now being dead, tubbo had nobody to guide for. only the ghost of wilbur remained. which teased everyone with his presence by forgetting who he was. a nice man who carried a sheep and a book. he therapeutically carried everyone’s emotions with crystals and soft hugs. 

the presidency went by so quick, but he does remember one day. it was a normal day. the obsidian walls were halfway from taken down. he didn’t dare want to think about tommy’s horrified face from when he was forced at gunpoint by dream to exile his best friend. he knew that what his best friend did what wrong. but he was just so tired of war raging on the lands. it’s what wilbur would’ve wanted. for tubbo to protect the country under any circumstance. at least, that’s what tubbo keeps telling himself.

it was a stormy night, and he stayed in his empty house outside of the docks. the wind pounded on his windows and the night was heavy. it was so dark due to the clouds killing all light to come from the sky. a lantern was lit inside of the home. he really thought today would be like no other rainy day. he really thought his heart wouldn’t pound and he wouldn’t flush. he thought it would be another night where he got the irrational feeling that he needed to document his feelings inside of that worn, leather journal. to document how he went about his tasks that day.

he hadn’t opened that book since the initial exile. so whenever he opened the slightly-dusted cover to reveal tommy's name and that picture of him. it felt like a punch to the gut. he arched his back, and he did the thing he always did whenever he missed tommy. he let his index finger trace along the cursive ink that wrote out tommy’s name. it reminded him of simpler days. whenever things were alright. and he wasn’t lost in the war of politics. or whatever else was going on. whenever dreams strings didn’t exist, and tubbo and tommy were allowed to be kids.

he sorted through the polaroid's. they were oldened, but they were still in near-perfect condition. no tears, no rips, no creases and no folds. they were flattened by the book and tubbo wanted to keep the pictures perfectly preserved. he let his fingers softly trace the pictures. the genuine, untraumatized faces. back when the wrinkles under tubbo’s eyes were nearly non-existent. when the color of his skin was still a healthy color. because he actually bothered to go outside. but nowadays. he always stays inside. when his smile was more genuine. when everything was simpler.

he had to think about tommy. the smile he wore, those braces. he hated to even think about the turmoil that he went through during the exile. he hated himself so much for the decision. he wishes he could’ve gone back. just like the previous exile. he wished that he had been with tommy. he didn’t care if he had to deal with obsidian and guards and forbidden travel and whatever else. he just wanted to be with tommy no matter what. he was supposed to be tommy’s sidekick. so where had it gone so wrong? he held his face in his hands, his palms pressing into his closed eyes gently. hes just stressed. but he had faith in tommy.

he knew tommy wouldn’t just die on tubbo. even if tommy absolutely hates tubbo now, his passion, his bravery and his perseverance wouldn’t allow him to die. he saw that tall tower of dirt, and wood. but as he inspected the ground. he found that there were no items to be found anywhere. so he concluded after searching the area that tommy hadn’t died. tommy surely wouldn’t just allow himself to give up. he can hear his voice echoing inside of tubbo’s head. what he would say as a response to being accused of committing suicide.

 _“what! who do you think i am? a_ **_pussy_ ** _? i'm a fucking_ **_MAN_ ** _! i don’t die for nobody!”_ tubbo chuckled as he imagined the faux-voice give a pretty good impression as to how tommy would react. his fingers tracing over the edges of the very first picture. the youthful picture of tommy. a smile came onto his face. he remembered a night when tommy was younger.

after tubbo had been up late writing, he had been quite ready to go to bed. he had slept a lot with tommy in their younger years, tommy would occasionally cuddle up against tubbo for warmth. as much as he would brush it off and pretend not to remember in the morning. tubbo would remember the nights where he would get nuzzled, arms around his body. where tommy would cuddle into his small body. there was a point where they were both the same height. but tubbo was still significantly frailer than tommy. it was more than expected for tommy to eventually outgrow tubbo.

a smile appeared on tubbo's face as he recalled the good times. the thunder rumbled the ground in a perfect way. the candlelight making the whole room more comfortable with the book open. he grabbed his pencil. as he proceeded to flip to the next open page. he grabbed one of the polaroid's. it was a picture of tommy and tubbo both in their newly-made l’manburg uniforms. they both had arms swung around eachother and they both had wide grins on their faces. the time where tubbo had lost a tooth and when tommy had braces. they looked rather geeky, but that didn’t even matter to tubbo. he stared at the picture.

the butterflies came back, his eyes squinted in comfort as his cheeks bunched up. he had no one to say it to. of course, he didn’t know what he wanted to say. his brain guided him to the conclusion that tubbo should test the waters. and see what he wants to say. it’s not like anyone else is here, everyone else is already inside, tucked in their homes. in warmth. in front of fires or sleeping and dreaming of futures. tubbo closed his eyes and let the words fumble out.

his eyes shot back open in shock at himself. his face turned pink.

his breath fastened. was it really true? surely he didn’t mean that. but as psychology always said. a slip of the tongue. his true thoughts had slipped from his unconscious to his conscious. from being unaware to being out there for the ears to hear. it startled tubbo. but he found… that he didn’t quite mind the feelings as much as he thought he would. he felt contempt. and comfortable with how it felt.

tubbo lifted the pencil. it was only right, right? that was the truth. but the only fear now was tommy’s feelings. he didn’t even give himself a moment, a second of a raindrop to hit the ground before he pressed his pencil against the ruled paper and started to scribble out a small sentence.

> **16/12/2020**
> 
> i think i love you .

it was the only way he could assume. his heart thumped, and his heart ached to see. it was a type of new pining that tubbo had never felt before. he put away the book, making sure nobody would read the truth. and that night, tubbo had all the sweet dreams he could about tommy’s presence. he found that night specifically, he had been missing tommy’s body clinging to his. the lack of human contact left him resorting to using multitudes of pillows to accommodate for the lost person. he would curl up, and press his flustered face into pillows as he was swept away by rain and his conscious drove him to the morning.

from then on. he acknowledged how he felt about the blonde. but didn't act on it at all. not like he could, anyway.

tommy had been in l’manburg. which confirmed suspicions of tommy not being dead. he was confronted and told he was a monster for holding an execution. which completely goes against l’manburg protocol. tubbo could only hang his head low as tommy scolded him for being just like schlatt. repeating everything that he had done. and then techno adds that at least jschlatt was democratically elected. tubbo was just put into place by force and without the election of the people. the words stung inside of tubbo’s shell. but above all, he cried that night, not because of the words. but because he knew that tommy was okay. even if he was living with his nemesis.

and then the day came, where tubbo saw the wrath of technoblade, spawning withers, and explosives. after the explosion at the community house. dream was livid. and they launch upon terror upon the newly-built nation. tubbo couldn’t even cry, or scream. the sound of the explosions brought back terrible memories, but all he could do is stand, frozen in ice. he was still ice when he was forced to look at l’manburg as a crater, all the way to bedrock. he was still ice as he dropped his guns, and dropped everything as he ran off to snowstedshire to make a home. ran off to go build a place far away. an escapism. he wanted to pretend that nothing ever happened. he wanted to be far away from anything that made his bones freeze.

tommy came to snowstedshire. and confronted tubbo about him being ignorant. and that he was going to fight for the disks. even if he dies doing it. and he would prefer if tubbo was there by his side. and tubbo twiddled his thumbs. in his new outfit. made out of wool and leather. he lacked any actual armor, at least right now. it was all on an armor stand. fully enchanted diamond armor. it glistened and was abnormally blue for the dark wood texture of the oak that the house was built of. tommy eyed tubbo, fiddling his thumbs. and he scooted closer, and hugged him closely.

tubbo inhaled sharply, and then wrapped his arms tightly around tommy’s body. he was so warm. although the armor he wore was clanky, and thick. it clattered against his bones but he didn’t care. tubbo's throat started to tighten, and he let out a cry. his bones relaxed. and tears started to flow down his face. he couldn’t stop them. in a wobbly voice, he clenched tommy closer and weeped. weeped of how he hated being president. on how he wants it all to end, he wants a break. he just wants to smile and laugh and be able to persevere like tommy does. but tubbo is always too scared, he’s _always_ scared. and never good enough for tommy.

the blonde didn’t respond to him. just patting the brunette. his face was closed shut. tubbo couldn’t tell how the blonde was feeling. but he can tell it was pained. tubbo didn’t cry much, he always looked on the bright side of life. the good side of things. but tubbo couldn’t do it, not this time. he let his heart spill out hopelessly onto the shimmering netherite, making it wet and sick. tommy removed his helmet and curled even closer to tubbo. the blonde, who presented himself as strong. let out small weeps as well. nowhere near as much as the throat tightening, heart-clutching cries of pain and desperation that tubbo was venting out. they would stay there for awhile.

they stayed the night, which evolved to them staying more nights. tubbo missed having hot cocoa and sharing cookies and having banter and having fun. but in snowstedshire. things might just finally be okay.

but, it was foolish to think that things would _stay_ okay.

tommy and tubbo were peacefully walking to tommy’s old house in the dream smp territory to collect his times. to find it completely destroyed with a chest only containing a single compass. leading towards his disks. tommy read the signs: be there with tubbo and no one else, or the disks will be destroyed. tubbo fiddled his thumbs again, as his heart started to race. not again. he doesn’t want to fight. he thought he could finally get a break. this exact home is where tommy gave him that journal so many years ago. and all the smiles they shared. that same flooring where they sat years ago, munching on cookies, trading smiles and giggles with each other. now glown up. it left tubbo feeling devastated and depressed.

but they prepared, they geared up to full netherite armor. they achieved some pretty strong weapons. they collected potions, and apples, and so many gifts were given from the ex-people of l’manburg. everyone was standing on that prime path. and tubbo and tommy were going to be walking away for the last time. tommy kept saying that he was going to come back with the disks, that it would all turn out ok. and tubbo wanted to believe him, god he really _did._ but also his soul guided him towards a different solution. a different meaning. a different feeling. that perhaps it is his time to go. that maybe it’s finally time for the good ol’ tubbo to rest within the confines of dirt in a box. a coffin that holds his corpse. maybe it’s for the best that he dies fighting for what tommy loves. because ultimately, what tommy said that day stuck with him like it was glued onto his skin and could never be scrubbed off. 

“the disks were worth more than you ever were.” 

that’s why tubbo was so shocked when they were completely defenseless. tommy having to make the ultimate choice. tubbo had dreams arm wrapped around his neck, and a sword pointed straight at his heart. tommy looked like as if he was about to break. dream making the threat: either he can give dream the disk. or he can kill tubbo. tubbo wanted to kick and scream and bit and claw. but he had already accepted this, he knew what was going to happen to him. he knew he was a goner. and tommy wanted the disk. “tommy, please. just keep the disk, just _run._ please, i’m a goner.”

“ **_NO!_ ** _whatthefuck-- i cant just let him_ **_KILL YOU,_ ** _TUBBO!”_ he desperately rushes, and he’s pacing and moving in place. dream starts to count. 10. 9. 8.

tubbo closes his eyes, a smile on his face, the words on the tip of his tongue. he squints and waits. the numbers he tried to ignore as they went down. but then he heard fast footsteps, and then the sound of an ender-chest being opened. and something hitting the grass. tubbo closed his eyes tighter. but the counting stopped. and the pain never came. dreams arm released tubbo's neck as he fell to the ground on his knees, tommy ran over to tubbo as he held him in an embrace. the same one that tommy had held him in whenever he had gotten shot by that firework. whenever tubbo and tommy were both in that final control room so long ago.

speaking of the final control room. they were brought down upon a black platform and brought down to a dark, basement. with blackstone lining the walls and painful aura lining the place. tubbo grasps tommy’s hand out of fear. he doesn’t want to get too far from tommy. and tommy doesn’t even defend himself. his hand clenches back onto tubbo’s hand. the warmth of both of their palms, despite being sweaty. was enough to give the duo some comfort. tubbo wished that he was numb, so he could forget. but he couldn’t. he was too hyperaware of his surroundings to even fathom not paying attention.

dream introduced them to the lair, all their armor and protection stripped away. his sadistic tendencies unraveling. he starts to scare tommy, telling him that he will never be able to escape. and that the prison cell was meant for him. and that tubbo must die, because it’s what destiny wants. tubbo starts to hear the white noise. he should’ve just let tommy run. he should just let tommy run. _why didn’t tommy run away._ the scene starts to fade as he blanks away as he thinks deeper. _why didn’t tommy just run. now he’s gonna be in prison, and it’s gonna be all my fault._ his throat clenches. he loves tommy so much. he can’t bare to watch him die. no matter how gruesome he dies. tommy deserves to live, and stay alive. and be protected. he wants to be here. with tommy. and damnit, if dreams going to kill tubbo, then he might as well kill tommy too. he wants to dream of a better place.

a shout disrupted tubbo’s thoughts, he’s standing near the hallway as tommy yells at dream. begging for him not to kill tubbo. but after some negotiation, tommy just trudges over to tubbo. and wraps his arms around tubbo’s figure. he sharply inhales again. he looks at tommy. he lets his hands grasp his cheeks. he can feel dream’s eyes digging straight into them. but he ignores that. all for tommy. tommy lets out a cry, a painful, broken, cracked cry. he sobs into the crevice of tubbo’s hands. his palms collecting all of his tears. he was never a pretty crier. but maybe that was ok to tubbo. it felt more real. because the reality is that this wasn’t a pretty situation. tommy muttered out soft words. “why are you smiling?”

“because i’m going to be saving your life, tommy…” tubbo murmured back. it was so gentle. he kept the word she wanted to say to tommy. his throat tightened as he used his thumb to brush away the tears. “tommy. i’m going to be saving your life… once you’re out, you’ll be free. because i know… _someone will save you,_ tommy.” he smiles. but tommy just breaks down even more. it seems as though his knees are about to give out beneath him. his tears flowing more freely, as he trembles, and he looks tubbo in the eyes.

dream is staring at them. tubbo really has to think what kind of sick monster would allow two children to lie on the ground and cry, and not rescue them. what part of him thinks it’s okay? what is wrong with him? what did the two ever do to dream? does he even have a heart, mind or soul. a realization. he doesn’t know what dream feels, if he feels anything other than sadistic energy to torture him and himself. he embraced tommy, before giving him a deep hug. he couldn’t wait to give tommy the freedom he deserved. “besides… it was my time to go, anyhow?”

tommy murmurs “no… _please_.” as tubbo backs away, his hands still splayed open, as to convince tubbo not to. “we’re dead men talking tommy. please…” he backs up, his footsteps close and careful. until hes about the midway point from tommy and dream. he can hear dream approach tubbo from behind. tubbo’s heart starts to race, and he looks at tommy. his eyes starting to well, his throat tightening as he smiled. “you’ll be free.”

tommy collapsed onto his knees as he stared at tubbo smile at him, his arms falling to his sides. he didn’t want this. tommy didn’t want this. he didn’t want this to happen. tubbo just watched as tommy mourned in despair. on his knees. 

“goodbye tommy.”

he hears a sword being drawn, and tubbo braces himself for the pain. he prepares for the second time that day. he prepares himself for the income to the tremendous amount of pain. but it never comes. instead.

“you should’ve payed me more.”. he hears. his eyes open, and shoot to the direction of the noise. it wasn’t dream. he stares at the portal, and he sees punz. standing there with his army. and tommy runs over to tubbo before he can even retaliate. and tommy grasps him and pulls him away from dream. telling him to run behind all of the fully-geared civilians. rebelling against the leader of the dream smp. 

the rest of the interaction goes by quickly, the fuzz of desperation. the others tell them to run through the portal after getting the disks. after tommy gave his speech, and declared imprisonment to dream. with an accelerated voice and riled up anger towards the green figure. he has to ride off the adrenaline as they both walk, hand-in-hand. covered in scars, cuts and bruises from the fight. walking down the prime path as the clam atmosphere of birds chirping, the sun high in the sky as they start to approach tommy's dirt house. which they had sloppily put together to repair it. so that they would have a roof over their head. and no mobs would come in and hurt them. 

they sat on the bench, both of their bodies relaxing into the creaky wood. tommy pulled out the cat disk, and in all of its scratchy glory. all of its rigid edges and its parts. it was still playable. it let out the calm tunes of music as tubbo curled closer to tommy. and all tommy could do was hug tubbo deeply. “i thought you were going to die… god.” tommy pressed his head into the neck of tubbo, and tubbo pressed his head into tommy’s neck. they were crying this time. but they just wanted to be as close to eachother’s comfort as physically possible. he was panting, and his stomach flew like butterflies. this entire scene was so surreal.

tubbo mutters. “from now on, wherever you go. i’ll go. that's a promise…” he grips tommy’s shirt, and pulls him close. protecting him. “i wont leave your side.”. he pressed himself deeper into tommy. and at that moment. he thought about how much of a gentle giant tommy was. he remembered when their hugs could be done with ease. but nowadays. tubbo has to stand on his tippy-toes. attempting to reach the height and tommy has to hunch himself over. his posture faltering and making his back ache. his posture was always something that he needed to work on, even to this day.

after the soft embraces, tubbo embraces tommy's cheeks. they're both smiling stupidly as tubbo stares into the deep blue irises of tommy. he's decided that maybe he doesn’t mind this at all. and then tubbo giggles. as his hands really grasp tommy's cheeks. comfortably. as the tune of the song comes to a fade. their eyes connect so swiftly. and gently. it was like his butterflies were telling him to go for it. even his brain was telling him to go. to make his mouth spill out his thoughts. it was one of those rare times where he let his true thoughts slip past his filter, and his hands go up into tommy's soft, blonde locks. his tanned fingers getting lost in the soft curls. combing it gently. occasionally coming across a knot and softly pulling it. tommy whined but let him do so. before tubbo just leaned forward.

“i love you.”

their lips connected so softly. the butterflies started to dance. and his eyes started to flutter shut in a flushed attempt to read tommy. to read himself. all he could’ve seen was tommy’s shocked expression as he turned pink. his cheeks dusted with a rose as he wrapped his arms around tubbo’s shoulders and draped them there, before pulling tubbo closer. tubbo leaned in too. a smile developing onto his lips. and for the first time in months, he felt something joyous, something childlike and wonderful. something that provoked a new emotion. 

maybe things could just, _finally_ , be okay.

> **19/01/2021**  
>  i kissed tommy today . turns out i did love him . im so happy , we defeated dream and got him imprisoned . i almost lost my final life today , but tommy saved my life . i’d say this is a pretty cool occurrence . anyway im tired , so not much for this entry . i want to be with tommy , i havent seen him this happy in so long.

**Author's Note:**

> send any questions here if you want  
> https://curiouscat.qa/inuredaydreams


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